


I’ve Been Waiting For You

by justAperidot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Thor/Bruce - Freeform, But then not!!!, Crack?, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pregnancy, Some angst, frostmaster, idk - Freeform, kind of?, y'all are my beta readers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-12 02:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15985787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justAperidot/pseuds/justAperidot
Summary: After running away, after coming back, after facing Thanos one last time and helping defeat him, once things calm down, Loki starts to think about what he left behind (and what he brought with him).It’s a good thing he has two very enthusiastic teenagers and his brother there to help him.





	1. The discovery of ABBA

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just have to go ahead and write that fanfic you want just because you can, and the Universe can sit on a dick.

They had babysitting duty today.

Of course, if they said that out loud, the girl (Shuri what’s-her-face) would probably try to cause them some sort of bodily damage. The infuriatingly polite one ("I’m Peter, sir. Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you. I mean, you have done some, uh, bad stuff, but... that’s in the past, right? Thor said it’s in the past.") would probably thank them for babysitting him, Mr. Odinson. That’s very kind of you, Mr. Odinson.

Okay, maybe they were being unfair with the kid. After all, he sure had _a lot_ of pride, especially when it came to being treated as an equal to the rest of the Avengers. If Loki brought up babysitting, he’d probably sputter and say, "No one is babysitting anyone! We three just happen to be in the Avengers HQ like the three Avengers we are! No one needs to watch over anyone! Maybe _we_ are babysitting _you_ , because you can’t be trusted!” There’d be a long pause. "I’m sorry, Mr. Odinson. I didn’t mean that." Yes, that sounded about right.

But it was still for the best to not bring up the "babysitting" word and let the children do their little Midgardian children homework in peace. Speaking of...

"Peter," Shuri growled, "I don’t know how you can work with that music, but I do know that I can’t, and that I shouldn’t be hearing it if you’re wearing headphones!"

The boy made a big show of turning the volume down. "There. Although it wasn’t _that_ loud, and you probably weren’t hearing anything. But there. Happy?”

"Yes. And yes, it was. It was so loud that I know exactly what song it was and I can ask this: how many fucking times have you listened to _Super Trouper_ in the past week?!” Vaguely, Loki wondered if they should be saying "Language!” or if their babysitting duties didn’t include that.

Peter was starting to go a little red in the face. "A perfectly reasonable amount of times."

"Which is?"

"It’s... it’s in the low hundreds."

Shuri chuckled. "Original ABBA, original Mamma Mía, or the one with Cher?"

"All three. As God commanded it."

"Amen."

Then there was silence, which Loki hoped would prevail over dumb chatter so they could go back to their book. Like most of the things in their life that they hoped would prevail or come back, all they got was disappointment.

"Are you thinking what I’m thinking, P?" Shuri turned off her tablet and the floating holograms of assorted gadgets and trinkets.

"I’m guessing it’s not that if you have to solve one more of these equations, you’ll throw your notebook out the window, so... no."

"Fuck homework. Let’s have an ABBA party." Again, should they reprimand her?

"An ABBA party..." Peter repeated musingly.

"An ABBA party." Shuri made a sweeping gesture over an imaginary marquee in front of her face.

"An ABBA party." Peter raised to hands to frame the same marquee.

"Can you kids shut the fuck up?" Yeah, Loki was not entitled to complain about language.

"Don’t worry," Shuri teased. "You’re invited, too."

"I don’t even know what ABBA is, and yet I’m still compelled to say: _unfortunately_ , I’m invited, too."

"Wait, wait," Peter closed his notebook and pushed his chair away from the table, "wait, wait, wait," he stood up and made his way to the couch were Loki was comfortably curled up, "wait, wait, _wait_. You don’t know ABBA?!"

Slowly, Loki replied, "No. That’s why I said, "I don’t even know what ABBA is."" The "you dull child" was implied.

Shuri slammed her hand on the table and exclaimed, "That’s it. The ABBA party has now officially become," Again with the hands and the imaginary marquee, "the Introduce Loki to ABBA..." She paused and gave Loki a look that they had learned to interpret.

"They."

"The Introduce Loki to ABBA: They’ll Thank Us Later party!"

"I’m already hating it."

 

ABBA apparently made music, which Shuri and Peter were now playing loudly over the speakers. Loki had to admit it had some appeal, and they could even enjoy it. That is, if the children would stop arguing over the dumb playlist and let the music play.

Then it got worse.

"We can’t have an ABBA party without glittery clothes!" Peter was the one to have the stupid-tastic idea.

Shuri nodded somberly, like something important was going on. "You’re right. But I don’t own any glittery clothes. Do you?"

"Uh... no..." Perfectly in sync, they turned to Loki (who hadn’t moved an inch out of their couch, thank you very much).

"I am not making you tailor-fit, _glittery_ clothes." With a flick of their hand, Loki summoned their closet from their pocket dimension, materializing it into the nearest supply closet (and sending the supplies to some void or another, who cares). "There may be something in there. Go nuts."

That would keep them occupied. If there were any glittery garments somewhere among his clothes, they would be old and forgotten and hidden behind many, many, _many_ other things. It would take the children a while to-

"I found something!" That was fast. Fuck you, Parker. Peter emerged from the repurposed closet, holding the damned garment between his thumb and forefinger. Loki felt their stomach knot when they saw it. "It’s certainly glittery and loud, but I have no idea what it’s supposed to be." He turned it over in his hands. "I think this is a sleeve..."

Somehow finding their voice, Loki said, "It’s a sweater." Then, more softly, "A sweater that I forgot I had kept."

Shuri was now poking the sweater, too, and damn them! Couldn’t they keep their grubby hands to themselves? "Yeah... there is no way this is a sweater."

Loki stood up and snatched it out of Peter's hand. "It _is_ ," they hissed. "Watch." Loki carefully untangled the fabric, placed it over their torso, and started tying together the different latches and ribbons with practiced ease. When they were done, the sweater hung loosely on their frame, the sides of their midriff exposed, their back decorated with the complex mesh, and their shoulders visible through the thin fabric. And yes, was it against everything that a sweater stood for? Absolutely. But _he_ had said it was a sweater, and it was _his_ sweater, his _favorite_ sweater, and Loki had accidentally taken it with them like a dumbass, and it probably still smelt like _him_ -

"I insist, there is no way that is a sweater." For once, Loki was glad to hear Shuri speak. If she hadn’t, they would’ve probably forgotten that the kids were there and would’ve done something embarrassing, like giving the sweater a good sniff, just to check.

"And I insist that it is." Loki tried to roll up the sleeves so they didn’t cover their hands, making them feel goofy. ("Goofy? Loki, sweetheart, you look a-dorable! Look at you, sweetie, all cute and warm, wrapped up in my-my favorite sweater!") It was futile; they kept rolling back down. "It’s... it’s borrowed." They suddenly wanted to be alone somewhere where they could smell the sweater in peace and see if it still smelt like him. And cry, probably. Yeah. They definitely felt like crying. They hoped it didn’t show. "Party's over." They snapped their fingers and the music stopped.

"Mr. Odinson, are you alright?"

Those were definitely tears starting to prick their eyes. They steeled their voice and said, “There’s just too much going on, and I’m not in the mood for a party.” Unconsciously, one of their hands strayed to their lower stomach.

They picked up their book and were about to leave for their room when Peter spoke, clearing his throat. “There are other, calmer ABBA songs. We could listen to those."

Maybe it was for the best if they weren’t alone. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. Plus, the children were unfortunately staring to grow on them. “Fine. I’ll listen to your ABBA songs with you, but just because I’m babysitting you.”

They should’ve realized Shuri and Peter were on to something when they didn’t address the babysitting issue. All that Peter said was, “Shuri, can you, uh, help me get some snacks?”


	2. ABBA, but sadder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I should make a formal apology about my chapter titles.

Once in the safety of the kitchen, a floor below from where Loki was waiting, Shuri pulled Peter close and whispered, "Here’s what I’m thinking: that’s an ex's sweater. I’ve been there. She smelled like strawberries. I cried for days."

"I don’t know why we’re whispering but I was thinking the exact same thing. Well, just the first part. I only have one ex and I don’t even know if it counts and I don’t have-"

"Your life doesn’t matter, Peter. We need a plan. We need to make them cry."

"Shuri!"

"I don’t mean the mean kind of "make them cry." I’m just saying we need to get them to open up about their feelings or whatever. Play _Knowing Me, Knowing You_ and letting it hit them like a freight train."

"It has to be gentle, Shuri. They’re clearly still sensitive."

"So... that’s a no on _Knowing Me, Knowing You_?"

Peter hesitated. "That... might actually help. I’ll allow it." He turned to the fridge. "Should we get ice cream?"

"Totally. We want to summon the biggest post-break-up waterworks." At Peter's glare, she added, "The biggest, gentlest, soul-mending waterworks."

 

"Just play it!" Shuri mouthed.

"We should start a conversation first." Peter mouthed back.

"We want their full attention on the song, not on small talk!" Shuri made an awkward attempt to steal the phone from Peter's hands, but the three pints of ice cream she was carrying made it difficult.

"Fine!" Peter slammed his finger on the screen of his phone, and the first notes of _Knowing Me, Knowing You_ drifted out of the speakers, making Loki look up from their book and realize that the children were back. They were still wearing the sweater.

"Hey," Shuri said, as casually as she could. She placed the three pints and three spoons on the coffee table. "Um, snacks."

Loki grabbed a spoon and considered the situation. Awkward children. Ice cream. A voice crooning to them about how "this is how the story ends, this is goodbye." They opened the closest pint (chocolate) and dug their spoon in. "You two are terrible actors. Even if I weren’t the deity of lies and deception, I’d still see through you. What do you want?"

The children ate their ice cream.

"Do you want the truth? Fine. Here’s the truth: even with all the praise and glory that comes with heroism, I still regret one of the biggest heroic gestures I’ve done."

"Being a hero sometimes means making sacrifices," Peter mumbled.

"That’s stupid. Why did I have to choose between being happy and loved and cared for, and saving my people? That’s so fucking stupid." Their spoon was still impaled in the ice cream, untouched. They could grab the pint close to their chest like Peter was doing and eat, but they didn’t want to touch the freezing plastic with their hands because they were so very conscious of the glamour that they had had on their body their entire life and what if touching the pint made it slip and they were here, in front of dumb, impressionable Midgardian children, they were no longer somewhere where blue was just another skin color and the lips of some blue-obsessed bastard would praise them and call the oh so pretty in all shades. Loki shook their head and grabbed the fucking pint. No need to get all sentimental about it. "And what a heroic gesture it was," they continued. "Leaving. Leaving without saying goodbye. Leaving without an explanation or telling him that I love him. Crazy bastard probably hates me now. He’s fickle like that." These were dumb Midgardian children. Who cares how much they know or don’t know. Lying to them is just not worth the trouble.

Loki didn’t know what to say after that, and neither did Shuri nor Peter, so they ate in silence. The song ended, and up next came _I’ve Been Waiting for You_. It was the version from the second _Mamma Mía_ movie, which Peter considered awesome because Shuri's plan had gotten out of hand real quick and they needed a break from songs about romantic love. Just some motherly love to ease the tension.

They barely made it past the first chorus in this delicate state of peace.

Loki knew that there was no way the kids knew. As they listened to the song, they told themselves that this time, unlike the last song, it was unintentional. And it was up to them to get a hold of themselves so that the kids didn’t realize that the issue ran deeper than some dumb sweater and a dumb break-up. Once again, on its own free will, their arm wrapped itself around their middle protectively. Maybe it was just their imagination, but Loki was sure that, without having to actually smell the sweater, a very sweet, very strong, very unmistakable scent was wafting up to their nose. And how could they hold it together now?! Maybe they could cast an illusion to make it seem that they had everything under control and were not about to cry, but that would require a little bit of focus that would require _getting their shit together for two fucking seconds_.

"Mr. Odinson?" Peter's voice was soft. He had put his ice cream down. Shuri looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Mr. Odinson, you’re crying."

Okay. Maybe they had miscalculated when they’d thought they were "about" to cry. And the kid was being so sweet and he had even changed seats to sit next to Loki and he was definitely Loki's favorite among the Avengers, the queer little disaster, and he was looking at them, waiting for some sort of green light for comforting them, and Loki was so beyond pride and keeping it together and was more in "pitiful and so fucking sad" land so they opened their mouth and all that came out was, "I can’t go back to him. Ever."

Peter went in for the hug. Shuri just scooted closer and placed a hand on their shoulder.

Trying to ignore how overwhelmingly embarrassing the whole thing was, Loki simply mumbled, "Don’t tell Thor that I’m pregnant."


	3. Papa don’t preach

The kids kept their mouths shut. They knew what was good for them.

Life kept going, the events of that evening not quite forgotten or ignored, but treated with discretion. Peter would check in on Loki every now and then, asking if she was drinking enough water and other very human details of the sort. Loki even suspected that he was doing some research on pregnancy to be as helpful as he could, bless his sweet soul, but he never asked any straightforward questions. Shuri also demonstrated to be in for whatever, ride or die, but in her own ways. She’d give Loki a minute nod every time they met, and this told Loki that she had her back.

Loki kept the sweater in her room, where she could have it close at hand whenever she felt overwhelmed. She made sure to always put it under her bed or in a drawer when she went out. Thor never went into her room, but you never know. Was she being a bit paranoid? Maybe. But you never know. And she wanted to keep as much as she could under her control.

Unfortunately, there are things that have no concept of loyalty and that cannot be put in drawers that we just can’t control.

The Avengers were having an early morning briefing. Loki had been begrudgingly given a seat at the table, mostly because Thor had insisted and partly on her own good behavior. It didn’t matter. She barely payed attention, anyway. Today was no different. Missions were being explained, opinions were being voiced, and Loki was inspecting her nails.

First, she felt dizzy. It was momentary, but she still felt like someone had given her chair a good kick. Okay. She had been expecting this. It was a bit early according to her calculations, but she had been expecting it. She hoped that that would be it for the time being.

Of course, she hoped wrong.

After she had steadied herself and had checked that no one had noticed anything off, the nausea kicked in. She felt her stomach tighten and bile rising up her throat. Just her luck. She was going to have to spend the entire briefing trying to quell her stomach. Amazing. She placed both hands on the table and sat up straight. _Not now, sweetie. Mommy is trying to pretend to care about work._

"Uh... Loki?" Stark! Stark was the one to notice first! Just her luck! Sure, he was standing opposite to her, and everyone else’s eyes were on the screen behind him, but still. Just her luck. "You’re lookin' a bit Hulk-shaded over there, Reindeer Games."

She had this. She had this. She had this. "I’m-" She didn’t have this. She swallowed (and down went her pride with it). "Where’s the closest bathroom?"

Stark pointed. With the grace of a dying, limp crow, she leapt to her feet, hand in front of her mouth, and while her magic tied her hair back in a disastrous bun, she ran.

 

No one said anything for a while after Loki left the table. Peter felt like he had to fix that. "Wow, it’s good to know I’m not the only one. There’s a stomach bug going around or somethin'. I’ve felt _awful_ since yesterday." He gave Shuri a pointed look.

"Yes! Me too! It’s horrible! I just feel so," She blew a raspberry, "y'know?"

"Nice try, but that’s not how it works." Thor was, well... thundering. His face was blank, but it was clear that there was a storm going on in there (and yeah, Peter didn’t want to overuse the thunder metaphors, but it was hard to avoid them). Peter and Shuri exchanged nervous glances. The tense silence returned. Everyone else had wordlessly decided that they’d rather figure things out from context instead of having to ask a very pissed off Thor.

When Loki returned from the bathroom (her hair down and smoothed to try to regain some dignity), as she walked towards her seat, Thor said, "Banner, would you please do me a favor and run some blood tests on my sister?" He didn’t turn to look at Loki. He didn’t turn to look at Bruce.

Going back to her seat meant walking right past Thor, and walking right past Thor meant... well... Loki stood her ground, even if she had to talk to the back of her brother’s head. "It’s not necessary. I know."

"You know?"

"I know."

(Scott, feeling like he was missing out on something really big, mouthed "Know what?" at Steve. Steve shrugged.)

Thor spun his chair around very slowly. "And you didn’t tell me."

"It didn’t seem necessary." Loki's eyes flitted to the side, but then she remembered herself and met Thor's eyes with renewed determination. "Oh, don’t look at me like that! This isn’t my first rodeo and you know it."

Pushing himself out of his chair, Thor strode towards Loki. "And precisely because it’s not your first rodeo, I know that this sort of thing starts happening around the sixth week." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you mind telling me where you were, where _we_ were, six weeks ago?"

Oh, wow. He _did_ pay attention. Wow. This was going to be harder, then. "Can we talk in private?"

 

The closest room where they could get some privacy was an interrogation room. How fitting. Loki knew she had to keep the upper hand, so she began talking the moment she closed the door behind her. "I have everything under control, you don’t need to worry about a thing, regardless of where I was six weeks ago, this is just another normal-"

"Is he the father?" Thor interrupted brusquely. Loki’s words died in her throat. Oh, boy. He was clearly very angry, record-breaking-ly angry. Receiving no answer from his sister, he repeated, "Is he?! Is... Is the... the-"

Thor didn’t want to say his name; Loki didn’t want to hear it. "He is," she answered coolly.

"And you didn’t tell me. I could’ve helped with- with something! Anything!" He started pacing the small room. "How long have you known?"

"A while. After Asgard was destroyed, before Thanos attacked our ship." And, hey, if they were being so honest, then... "I did it for them. I faked my death for Bowie." She gestured at her belly.

"Bowie?"

"Working name. The kids have been showing me Midgardian music and David Bowie is... he’s... I just think that the... the baby's father would’ve really enjoyed his music." Thor's frown deepened. Clearly, hearing that Loki was naming the baby while keeping _him_ in mind was making things worse. "But I digress. I did it for Bowie. I know I promised more honesty, less, well, faking my own death, and if I hadn’t been pregnant, I would’ve kept my word. I would’ve tricked Thanos, I would’ve given him a fake Tesseract, I would’ve done some actual effort to kill him instead of letting myself "die". But I was scared for Bowie. So I did the cowardly thing and ran, to protect my child. I know it’s a mediocre excuse, but-"

Thor had stopped pacing. He had stopped fuming, too. He placed a hand on Loki's shoulder. "You have always been an exceptional mother. In that sense, I trust your instinct. And you still returned to us in time to defeat Thanos, so that is forgiven. I just-" He looked away, the frown returning. Ah. Back to what was _not_ forgiven. "How could you have not come to me for help? How can you pretend it’s a normal pregnancy or think about naming the child after someone that... that _he_ would like? I mean, considering how they were conceived..."

Loki wasn’t completely sure of how Bowie had been conceived. She knew that it must’ve been a little while before Thor arrived and while she was in female form for the, uh, _anatomy_ to work. That did not give her a very precise window. She had changed back and forth quite constantly, and each of her forms had gotten fucked a lot. _A. Fucking. Lot._ All she knew was that one day, when they were already in the ship with course set for Midgard and surrounded by Asgardian refugees, she had tried to do some thorough shapeshifting and her body had informed her that no, she was (apparently) pregnant, and she was past that point where she could safely shapeshift her reproductive organs without hurting the baby. That was the moment she realized how much she missed the Grandmaster.

But no. Thor probably didn’t want a precise conception date. He was trying to imply something else. "What do you mean?" Loki asked, feigning ignorance.

"It’s fine, no, it’s _great_ that you want to keep the baby, but you could at least break away from that part of their history. Stop thinking about him. Don’t make Bowie a reminder of the time you had to... you know..." Loki was looking at him expectantly. "Don’t make me say it, sister."

Oh, no, no, no. She _was_ going to make him say it just so she could go off like she had never gone off before. "I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, _brother_."

Thor clenched his jaw. "The time you sold yourself for power, _sister_ ," he growled. There it was.

Loki narrowed her eyes. "You think I’m that desperate," she began, her voice smooth and even. "You think I’m that amoral. You think I was _forced_ to do what I did even though there were a thousand-" Thor opened his mouth, but Loki just put her hand up and continued, louder this time, "A _thousand_ other ways in which I could’ve earned his favor, and yet I chose that one. You know why? Because I liked him. I _wanted_ him. And he wanted me. And when I was with him, I felt more loved and cared for than I’d felt in many, many years. And now I’m here, alone, with no way of going back to him, bearing his child, and the least you could do is mind your own fucking business." She emphasized the last three words by poking Thor’s chest thrice as she said them.

"You love him," Thor whispered.

"And he loves me." _Or at least he did before I left._ "Don’t forget that part." Loki was shaking with anger. She stepped away from Thor and took deep breaths to calm herself down (for Bowie's sake, not for Thor's).

Thor knew that, and he also wanted the conversation to cool down for the baby's sake. "The child of a Jotun and an Elder. Wow."

"Yeah. Wow," Loki repeated fondly. "They’re going to be extraordinary."

"And they’re going to have the best uncle."

Loki rolled her eyes. "You’re so full of yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look me in the eye and tell me that the Grandmaster wouldn’t like David Bowie.


	4. Different lifestyles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small Thruce parentheses because I want to. That’s it. That’s the whole reason.

Bruce had some questions.

Even after the two siblings left to have a conversation “in private” and the remaining Avengers had teamed up on Shuri and Peter to draw some answers out of the teens, he still had questions. They were mostly questions born from his scientific curiosity (Would a blood test have revealed Loki’s pregnancy in the same way it would have revealed a human one? If not, what would be the difference or differences? Did Thor know how to interpret a blood test? Would he have helped Bruce? Could Bruce run blood test on both Odinsons, just to see what he’d find?), but a non-scientific question was the one that burned stronger in the tip of his tongue: was Thor okay?

He wanted to give him some space. He wanted to wait for a while (a day, maybe two) before going to Thor and asking if he was alright. It wasn’t his fault that he ran into him less than an hour later in the kitchen, looking like the world’s most dejected golden retriever as he chopped some fruit.

"Hey," Bruce began lamely.

Thor grabbed a handful of chopped up watermelon and threw it into the blender. "Hey," he echoed, trying to smile cheerfully.

Bruce set his glass of water on the table and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. God, he was terrible at this. "What are you making?"

Thor started peeling a tangerine (with some pretty amazing dexterity). "Loki's favorite pregnancy smoothie. It’s a peace offering." He offered Bruce a slice, which he accepted politely.

Having a favorite pregnancy smoothie seemed like something really specific to Bruce. "It sounds like this happens often." He gave himself a good ol’ mental kick after saying it. _Not very tactful, Banner._

Thor, on the other hand, did not mind the comment. In fact, he gave a soft chuckle of approval. "It does. That’s just the way my sister is." Bruce could sense that he was on the verge of a very well deserved rant, so he pulled up a stool and got ready to listen. Surely enough, it didn’t take long for Thor to begin, "My problem is with the Grandmaster, of course, not with Loki. That... that _tyrant_ really got under my skin. And Loki insists that he was kind to her, and I’m trying to believe her. I really am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need some time to get used to that fact that my little sister..." He ran the knife through a pear a bit too forcefully and it thudded against the cutting board. "That she loves him. Apparently."

Thor was quiet for a moment and simply stared at the two halves of the pear as if he expected a message of hope to appear from between them. He sighed. "I’ve always been supportive of Loki's lifestyle and her love of children. I shouldn’t have gotten angry at her. I was an ass."

Bruce reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Hey, hey, hey, no. Don’t say that. You weren’t an ass. You’re never an ass. You're the farthest thing from an ass, always. You actually have the chillest "my sister gets pregnant all the time" attitude out of everyone I’ve ever met."

"Thank you, Banner." He placed a hand on top of Bruce's and gave him a sheepish smile. "You’re a true friend."

"So are you, so would it kill you to call me Bruce?"

Thor laughed. "Thank you, Bruce." He broke eye contact and returned his attention to chopping fruit. Bruce felt somewhat disappointed for some dumb reason. "I guess it’s just how we are back in Asgard," Thor continued. "To each their own. Loki has always seen sex as a way to start a relationship, to get to know someone. She first sleeps with them, and then she considers if she wants something more serious or not. For me, it’s the other way around. I see sex as an important milestone in a relationship, one that takes time and effort to reach. So far, I haven’t reached it with anyone, but," he shrugged, "that's me. We’re so different."

Okay.

Okay.

Bruce was certain that he had misheard something because there was no way Thor had just said... okay.Okay. He had to ask. "Did you just say you’ve never had sex?"

Thor looked at him blankly. "Yes. Why?"

Bruce took Thor in, with his bright smiles and thick arms and... and pretty intimidating torso. "You’ve never- No one has ever- _You_ -" he sputtered. He was making a fool of himself and he knew it but the shock was just too big. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Why are you so surprised?"

"Because you’re a pretty attractive man– I mean, god with all the muscles and eyes and abs and..." _Because you’re a virgin that looks like a sex god, that’s why_.

Thor scratched the back of his neck. "Well... I just never... I’ve never been in a relationship that’s long enough..."

Right. Of course. It’s a _milestone_. Stupid Banner. Stupid, superficial Banner. "Of course. Right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have..."

"It’s okay." When Thor glanced in his direction as he poured yogurt into the blender, Bruce swore he saw a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You’re not so bad-looking yourself."

Red in the face, Bruce scoffed, "Sure. Right."

"Hey, I like my men with some grey on their temples. It’s sophisticated," Thor said, and yes, Bruce did have the intention to reply (even if he didn’t know _what_ to reply), but in that moment and probably on purpose, Thor turned on the blender, and conversation became impossible. Once the smoothie was ready, Thor expertly poured it into a tall glass and said, "Time to go apologize."

And he left.

Just like that.

The _nerve_.


	5. "Late" doesn’t even cover it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending, even if it comes a bit late.

Sam always got to welcome the weirdos. Somehow, they always managed to arrive right when he was on duty. _Stark_ never got to welcome them. How is that fair.

The moment the roof's alarms went off, he activated his wings and left his post. It was a spaceship. A baby blue, sleek spaceship shaped like a U with a round cockpit right in the middle, and it was hovering a couple of feet above of the helipad. It looked extravagant and ridiculous and with big chances of containing a weirdo. Sam sighed and flew towards the cockpit. As he approached, the window on the pilot's side rolled down like the window of a spaceship _shouldn’t_ do. (What kind of dumbass had designed that?! "Yeah, let’s add a convenient roll-down window for the Intergalactic McDonald's drive-thru. Who cares about "the vacuum of space" and all that nonsense?!") Yep, Sam had another loony in his hands.

A silver-haired head popped out of the window. "Uh, excuse me. Can I park here?"

Sam was caught somewhere between "what the ever-loving _fuck_ " and "just another Tuesday night". Without taking his eyes off the ship, he raised the mic on his wristband to his mouth. "I’ve got moron in a fugly spaceship looking for a free parking space. Permission to blast him out of the sky?"

Clint (who was also on duty but couldn’t fucking fly so he didn’t get to welcome the weirdos, the lucky bastard) responded through his earpiece. "You wish. Bring him in and we’ll figure out what his deal is. Do you need backup?"

"Negative." Sam pointed at the wack-job with two fingers and did a (hopefully universal) "get your ass out of there quietly and slowly" gesture.

The man had the audacity of giving him a sheepish look. "I can’t get out of the vehicle until I, you know, put her down." He mimicked landing with a spread hand.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. Park and then step out of the vehicle, sir."

"Right. Sure. Uh..." The spaceship jolted. Sam guessed that the idiot pilot had forgotten to step on the clutch or something. "This might take a while... I’m not very used to this whole driving dealio. Every other time I’ve flown, I was usually in the backseat, sipping on a cocktail, but, ah... revolutions tend to change that." The spaceship started to ( _very slowly_ ) go down. "Easy does it... One moment you’re sitting in a golden throne and the next you’re sneaking one of your own ships out of a planet... Easy... easy... easy... wait, wait, wait, no... there... easy... easy..."

It did take a while, but eventually the spaceship was finally parked and the man stepped out. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a slow, cooperative, hands-behind-his-head type of stepping out. It was more a swaggering leap out of the cockpit with a "guess who's home?!" door slam. Sam drew his gun. "Buddy, I hope you understand that you have landed on a restricted area and are on thin ice right now. So slow down, stay right there, and state your business."

The man didn’t look scared (and Sam could only hope that was just because of the loose screws in his noggin and not because he was more powerful than Sam's gun or something like that), but he still obeyed. "Before I state my business, I... I just have to ask because I have no idea how long I’ve been traveling in that piece of junk. Am I late?"

"Late to what?"

"You know, the big showdown. Stopping Thanos. Saving the world."

Sam stared at him for a whole minute. Then, he let out a long and impatient "Dude...".

 

Clint looked up from the security feed when Sam pushed some guy in his late fifties, early sixties into the room. With a flat tone and a poker face that honestly deserved an Oscar, Sam said, "He wants to know if he’s too late or if he can still help us defeat Thanos."

The man threw his hands up. "Well, am I?! Because I haven’t gotten my answer, and I do _not_ like being kept in the shadows."

Clint opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. Then he let out an even longer "Duuuuuuude," followed by, ""Late" doesn’t even cover it. It’s not even in the same ballpark. It’s not even in the same solar system." He pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured towards the hallway that led to the rest of the facility. "Should I...?"

"Get the others," Sam completed. He pushed the stranger into a nearby couch and ordered, "Sit."

 

The Grandmaster was sitting. Sure, it was beneath him to obey the Terran, but he sat and waited because his patience was as infinite as his kindness, and what else could he do? He was embarrassingly (not even fashionably) late to the big fight and even though he hadn’t really wanted to fight Thanos, violence wasn’t his cup of tea, well, _watching_ violence was, but not experiencing it first hand... anyway, he had pepped talked himself all during his trip. First take care of Thanos, once the Terrans shower you with love and crown you their new, lovable leader, you’ll have time to- No, that was also beneath him. Yes. Absolutely. Even if he had lost Sakaar, that was no excuse to, to go chasing after a traitor- A beautiful, sexy traitor who had only traitor-ed to go save his people, a perfect match for the Grandmaster: an iron fist of leadership but with a soft heart, he was truly an exquisite... Should he? Oh, he _should_ go after him. But first, he had to get off Terra, there was no Mad Titan to defeat and earn the adoration of the little Terrans, and he didn’t have time to plot anything more complicated, he’d find another planet later for him and his gorgeous drop of moonlight and-

The Terran he had met on the roof stopped him with a hand on his chest when he stood up. "You’re not going anywhere until we figure out if you’re a threat."

The Grandmaster laughed. "A threat? Me?! Of course! I could just," He waggled his fingers in front of the Terran's face and made a _squish_ noise with his mouth, "you, but I’m not in the mood, so I’ll be on my way-"

The other Terran walked in. The Terrans locked eyes. "They’re on their way."

"Mother Hen?"

"Out of his coop. You know how he likes to stick his nose everywhere."

The Grandmaster was unceremoniously pushed back into the couch (which he allowed because he wanted to wait for an actual _leader_ with some _manners_ ) as more Terrans started to file in. There was a perfectly good table with perfectly good chairs in the middle of the room, but they chose to go around it and stand in front of the Grandmaster. Ah. Good. All eyes on him. He steepled his fingers and prepared to awe these low life forms into giving him a brand new spaceship with a personal pilot and some _margaritas_.

"What are you doing here?" The demand was cold, but there was sweet, juicy history in it. It came with recognition, not just curiosity. It was someone who knew him.

The Terrans parted and turned to look at the person who had spoken, and it was like a pair of soft silky veils sliding open to reveal paradise, for there he was! Oh, Fate was always so _kind_ to the Grandmaster, and today was no exception. She had forgiven him for his accidental tardiness and given him this! Him!

Although... Not exactly how he had expected. Loki’s face was stony, and he had a bundle of... something pressed greedily against his chest. It wasn’t the tearful reunion the Grandmaster had envisioned. No matter. His sweetheart was probably just surprised.

"Loki!" The Grandmaster leaped to his feet.

Loki took a step back, his arms tightening around whatever it was he was holding. "You came a long way for a petty revenge, Grandmaster." Oooh, he had his kingly voice one. The Grandmaster loved that one. Well, he loved it when they were playing their little games, but the general vibe he was getting... yeah, it wasn’t a playful one. "And all for what? A stolen ship and a small revolution? If you really want to make me pay for that, I’m not going to make it easy-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out." The Grandmaster desperately made a T with his hands. "Time out. No one’s making anyone pay for anything. I was just gonna drop by Terra, deal with Thanos-"

"You were a big help with that," someone in the small audience contributed. Aw, he had old Ego's eyes! How cute!

"Thank you, but I would’ve liked to do more. Where was I? Deal with Thanos, go find you, come back to Terra, and use their love and respect for me because of all the Thanos business to make us their new benevolent dictators."

Loki relaxed minutely. His eyes were sorrowful. They might have their tearful reunion after all.

That is, if the audience stopped participating and ruining everything. "With none of the due respect, Grandmaster, about that last part..."

He knew that voice, too! But turning to look at him would mean not looking at Loki so... no. "Sparkles. Good to see you again. We'll catch up in a mo, but right now I’m... I’m, ah... I’m trying to have a moment with my beloved here, okay? Thank you."

"You don’t hate me," was all that Loki had to say.

"I could never."

The Grandmaster may not know a lot about Terrans, but he was sure that that was a child in spectacularly loud red and blue giving Loki an encouraging push forward. Thank you for your support, fashionable child. Loki had completely relaxed his grip on the bundle, and now that it wasn’t pressed against the god's chest, it shook its little fist.

The Grandmaster gaped. "It’s alive."

Loki laughed, and even though it was short, it was a victory. He walked towards the Grandmaster, cooing at the bundle. Peeking inside, the Grandmasters learned there was a little face among the blankets, and little, chubby arms. And a pair of very active kickers. "This is Bowie," Loki murmured. "I hope you don’t mind that I named him as I pleased because I thought he’d never meet his father."

"A baby!" the Grandmaster exclaimed. "How wonderful. Who’s this father that he might never meet? Pardon me for being curious."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the faces around him turn different shades of confused and incredulous. One even spoke up, "Wow, Loki. You didn’t tell us he was a dumbass." Another Terran child, but unlike the first one, she was _not_ going to get the Grandmaster's deepest thanks.

Back to what mattered.

It was a testament of Loki regaining his ease around the Grandmaster that his face showed such unbridled amusement. "En Dwi... he’s yours, you old fool."

The Grandmaster pointed at himself.

Loki nodded slowly.

"I’m a father."

"You’re a father," Loki repeated, almost mockingly.

The Grandmaster was beaming. "Sparkles, did you hear that? I’m a father!"

"I know," the lord of thunder replied, not as joyfully as he should’ve (the Grandmaster was a father!). "I’ve been here for the pregnancy, delivery, and first few months. Where were you?"

One of the Terrans broke away from the rest to put a hand on Sparkles's shoulder. The Grandmaster was sure he’d also met him, but he couldn’t figure out when or where. "Thor," he said gently, "you’re doing it again. Let Loki handle this."

Sparkles sighed. "Fine." He put his arm around the Terran's waist and rubbed his hip. Perfect! Just what the Grandmaster wanted! Just love and support and happiness all around! But no happiness right now could possibly compare to his.

"I’m a father!" He chuckled. "A father! Me!"

Loki shook his head, turning to leave the room. "This could go on for a while, and Bowie and I need our sleep. Just point him in our direction when he tires himself out."

 

The Avengers exchanged glances. Tony spoke first. "We're going to have to keep him, aren’t we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue chapter coming soon.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending part 2 because the last one didn’t have cuddles and kisses

The afternoon sun was washing over the polished floors of the living room. Bowie was lying on his favorite blanket on top of the plush carpet in the middle of the room. A colorful, space-themed baby gym hung over his head, and his pudgy hands flailed about, trying to reach one of the many stars and planets. Whenever he’d hit one, the toy would rattle and Bowie would laugh with delight.

Loki and the Grandmaster were watching him from the couch. They were pressed against each other, Loki's legs tucked underneath them and their fingers tangled with the Grandmaster's. The Grandmaster had bought some moderately more Midgardian clothes to wear (even though he still stood out). Loki was once again wearing the sweater.

"You really thought I was capable of hating you." The statement came out of the blue, but Loki had been expecting it. They hadn’t talked about their icy reunion yet.

"Well," they began, "I did betray your trust, use the codes you confided in me to allow my brother and your champion to escape, start a revolution, and then leave in one of your ships with the revolted slaves." They paused. "Also, I once saw you melt someone because they scoffed at your new statues."

The Grandmaster shrugged. "You got me there. _Although_ , in my defense, I was in a particularly bad mood that day and that wasn’t that asshole's first transgression. But- but seriously, honey," he rearranged his long frame on the couch so he could face Loki and cupped their face, "I’m pretty sure I’m physically unable to hate you. Was I a bit mad at first, a bit heartbroken? Sure, but-"

With a sharp stab of guilt, Loki was ready to apologize profusely, but the Grandmaster stopped them by placing his thumb on their lips.

"You don’t have to say a thing, baby. I know why you did it, and it’s such an honorable reason! I mean it! In my _extremely long_ trip here, I thought about it long and hard–and don’t give me that naughty look I’m trying to be serious here–and I forgave you. I’m not bringing this up so you apologize; if anything, _I_ should apologize–yes, I mean it–because if you thought, even for a second, that I was capable of hating you, then I wasn’t thorough enough when I told you how much I love and admire you, my stunning, beautiful, amazing, breathtakingly sexy prince." The compliments were so overwhelming that Loki wanted to look away, but the Grandmaster’s firm grip did not let them. This was something he did, make Loki face him whenever he complimented them so they couldn’t shy away or brush the compliments off. He was _very_ serious about letting Loki know how much he cared.

Bowie sneezed, and a surge of sparks burst from his fingers and made all of the toys hanging from his baby gym rattle.

"Wowza," said the Grandmaster.

Loki sighed. "With all that power, he’s going to be quite a handful to raise."

"Good thing he’s going to have two loving and extremely good-looking parents caring for him."

Loki nodded to acknowledge En Dwi's words, but their mind was elsewhere. They watched Bowie, who kept on playing, oblivious of his own powers and of his parent's worry. It was clear that he had inherited most of the Grandmaster's looks: the white skin, the shape of the eyes, the dark, tight curls ("Hey, my hair wasn’t always like this, Lo. I was young once, y'know?"). But still... even if the Elder's genes had overpowered Loki's, his heritage came from both sides, and Loki wanted him to know that and still love himself, despite... despite all the crap that Loki's genes would bring. They would _not_ repeat Odin's cycle.

They locked eyes with the Grandmaster. For courage.

"Honey, why do you look so serious all of a-?"

Green light washed over Loki's body. The Grandmaster's mouth was a perfect O, and his eyes were wide. Loki knew it wasn’t because of how they looked–he had seen their true form before–but it was surprising seeing them like that _here_ , in the _very_ public living room, with large windows right in front of them. This wasn’t the intimacy of their bedroom, with drawn shades and dimmed lights. This was different. This was _scary_.

"I want Bowie to know who he is and be happy about it," Loki explained. "I want him to look at himself and... and..." They glanced down at their own hands. The blue skin looked different in the soft sunlight, but that didn’t make it better. They felt their throat closing. "I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t do it." The Aesir disguise returned. They felt nauseous. "I’m sorry," they mumbled one more time.

The Grandmaster pulled them into a tight hug, rubbing circles into their shoulder. "Oh, sweetpea, no. You don’t have to do that. I know you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with it."

"But Bowie-"

"Bowie will _love_ himself. He will be one conceited little brat who is proud of all of his colors. But you have your own scars that still need healing, Lo. Don’t neglect that for our son. Take all the time you need."

Instead of answering, Loki placed their hand on the nape of En Dwi's neck and pulled him close. The kiss was slow and gentle, but when Loki deepened it, they felt the Grandmaster’s hand on the small of their back, moving them towards himself and down onto the couch. Before Loki could remind him that Bowie was in the room, he broke away and pressed his forehead against the god's. With his breath hot against Loki's cheeks, he said huskily, "Wanna make more babies?"

Loki started laughing and pushed him off. "En Dwi!" they protested and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder for good measure. "That was a terrible line, but a great way to ruin the moment." Regaining some composure, they bent down and scooped Bowie out of the floor. When they sat up, the Grandmaster put an arm around their shoulders as Loki started bouncing Bowie on their knee.

The Grandmaster watched the scene, his eyes filled with adoration. He tucked a loose lock of hair behind Loki's ear and asked, "Well? Do you? You didn’t answer me."

Loki smirked. "Be careful what you ask for," they taunted.

"Hey, I mean it." The Grandmaster booped Bowie's nose, and the baby grabbed his finger with his tiny fist. "Tell me what you want, and I promise I’ll be more than happy to-"

Without missing a beat, Loki interrupted, "Oh, yes. Absolutely. More babies. I want many, many more babies. You’ve made a promise and you can’t take it back now."

Bowie joined in when his father started laughing, even though he had no idea what was going on


End file.
